Botany and Other Dangerous Hobbies
by Synthette
Summary: Loki's a jerk, Dean's high and Sam's at the end of his tether. Castiel may or may not be having the angelic equivalent of a nervous breakdown. - second instalment of the Vagabonds 'verse.


**Title: **Botany and Other Dangerous Hobbies  
**Characters: **Castiel, Sam, Dean, Loki.  
**Word Count:** 2.9k~  
**Rating:** R, because of Dean's potty mouth.  
**Notes: **Continuation of 'We are Vagabonds', which was inspired by sigridhr lj's '100 Ideas for your Inevitable Loki Fanfic', idea number 96: 'Loki joins Sam and Dean as a hunter. Castiel doesn't know what the fuck is going on anymore.' Post-apocalyptic AU with added Loki. X-posted on lj.  
**Warning:** Bad language, Dean's P.O.V., mentions of pseudo-cannibalism, this quite possibly qualifies as 'crack'.  
**Disclaimer: **Characters and the like aren't mine, I just play with them.  
**Summary: **Loki is a douche, Dean's (magnificent) high and Sam's at the end of his tether. Castiel may or may not be having the angelic equivalent of a nervous breakdown.

* * *

"Loki," Sam says, in his best I am Deeply Disappointed in You and Your Life Choices voice, the one that he's perfected over a lifetime of Dean's shitty mistakes and even shittier luck. Okay, so more like several lifetimes - _and_ Hell. Can't forget Hell - but, hey, he's not the one facing those fearsome puppy eyes.

So, all in all, Dean's feeling terribly, unrepentantly smug. It's a nice feeling. It's a feeling he'd like to get to know a little better, maybe. Take this feeling out for drinks, then a couple of dates, and, somewhere down the line, get married and have lots of little, mini-feelings.

Of course, because this is Real Life (and, _seriously, _**_how_**_, how is this his life?_), stuff doesn't actually work like that. Oh, but a man can dream.

A man can dream.

Dean, magnanimous as always, settles for what he can have.

_Witness here, a novel and beautiful moment in the Life and Times of Dean Winchester, wherein Sam Winchester, henceforth known as 'Sam', or 'Sammy' or, alternatively and more accurately, 'Sam the Bitch' lectures someone who is _**_not Dean Winchester_**_. This moment, this beautiful, beautiful moment, a shining sliver of light in his grey sky life - _Dean pauses there, because Major League Bullshitter that he is, even so, he's pretty sure that he's laying it on a bit thick. He wants to enshrine this moment in his memory for ever. His commentary must be _epic_. Perfect. Like Vin Scully, only in Sam's fancy sounding Lawyer-ese. Make it sound official, because it should be -

Sam coughs pointedly, and Dean realises that everyone (three people, technically, but those judging eyes make it feel like a whole fucking crowd) is looking at him. Sam raises an eyebrow, in an approximation of his I Know You're Doing Something Weird, Stop, Stop It _Now_ bitch-face. "You okay there?"

Dean grins back. "Just fine, dude. Just fine."

"Are you absolutely sure you're not having weird, magic-induced side effects?"

"I'm _fine_."

"You aren't fine. You look… _happy_," Sam's face scrunches up, like Dean's happiness is somehow world-breaking. "You don't-" he waves his hand at Dean's face. "You don't do that, dude."

"Sure I do," Dean says. "Doing it now, ain't I?"

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Sam chooses the better part of valour and turns his attention back to Loki. Poor, clueless Loki, as yet unversed in the many Shades of Sam. Dean spends a moment in quiet contemplation of what that kind of innocence must be like.

_It should be noted that said aforementioned Dean Winchester, henceforth known as 'Dean', or 'Dean the Magnificent', or 'Dean the Fuck-Awesome', is genuinely fond of 'The Bastard Who Ate My Pie That One Time' - otherwise known as Loki, God of Lies, Chaos, Generic Evil, Tomfoolery, etc. etc.. Dean the Magnificent is also himself a frequent casualty of Sam's Righteous Fury (or Furiously Righteous Ranting). But, Dean the Magnificent feels _**_no sympathy_**_ for Loki. None. Dean the Magnificent feels no pity for those who break the sacred covenant of the Dessert Cart. _(Because no matter what that lying, skinny asshole says, Dean knows he ate his last slice of blueberry pie. He _knows_.)

So, to reiterate: there is _no pity_ in Dean's heart. Just smugness. Lots of warm, happy smugness.

The Norse God starts fidgeting, bored and annoyed. Sam is gazing at the grain of the wooden table like it holds the answers of the universe.

Dean looks around the room and then smirks.

Okay. So the situation is a bit weird, even for them.

"Loki," Sam starts again, carefully enunciating every word because, apparently, diction is really important when you're trying to lecture a crazy deity who part-times as a wizard. "You can't just turn people into potted plants."

Dean, sitting on the sidelines, casually bats a giant leaf out of his face.

The Trickster's brow furrows. "Why not?" he says. He looks one part bemused and two parts genuinely baffled, and Dean can read his thought process on his face, clear as day: _'what are these funny little mortals fussing over _**_this time_**_?'_. "They were turning people into slugs. It seemed fitting."

"They're people!"

"…_And_?" Loki, slowly, _oh so slowly_, points at himself, looking at Sam like he's just crawled out from under a particularly slimy rock. "My name is_Loki_. I am a _Trickster God_. Have we _met_?"

"I know all that!" Sam snaps. "Just- It's wrong, okay. They're people with lives and jobs, and two of them even had kids, Loki. _Kids_. They knew what they were doing was wrong, and it wouldn't have taken much to convince them to stop."

"I'm sure the irony of their situation has convinced them of that already," Loki says with a wicked smile. "They won't be transfiguring anyone into gastropods in the foreseeable future."

"That's because they're still _photosynthesising_."

"There is that."

Dean the Magnificent, and hells yes, he's gonna call himself that from now on, watches the back and forth between Loki and Sam. _In the red corner, weighing in at Virtually Nothing, we have Loki the Bastard, who wonders why the pathetic, squishy mortals don't get the joke; he's a Trickster God from outer-space with a scarf fetish, but don't let his size fool you! Oh no, he can bench press a car with a pissed of vampire standing on the roof! _

(And, yes, Dean is so _so_ thankful that he's on their side.)

_In the blue corner, weighing in at Heavy as Fuck, we have the indomitable Sasquatch! Yes, it's Sam the Bitch, ladies and gents. He loves puppies, kittens and rainbows, but don't let his overwhelming gayness fool you. Sam(antha) is one tough cookie!_

...There is the distinct possibility that Loki's magic has made him high. It wouldn't be the first time. He should probably do something about it, but it's fun, it's not hurting anyone and Dean? Dean gives no fucks.

You see: befriending insane, fallen gods? There are _perks_.

Dean looks over at Cas, who's doing his best to loom menacingly, radiating waves of Deep and Abiding Disapproval over the whole situation.

It's… kind of a downer on Dean's Happy Smug I am Amazing-times.

Thing is, Cas looks like he wants to ask for Dean's support in this. Which isn't much of a surprise, but still sucks.

Why does it suck? Well, on one hand Dean's discovering a latent voyeuristic streak outside of porn and, uhm, well, porn, which is always healthy. Right? Right. On the other hand, Loki broke The Rules*, and he must suffer.

On a borrowed third hand: no one turns Dean into a slug and gets away with it.

Luckily, Dean's a pro when it comes to pretending that he has no idea what the hell Cas is going on about. So he just shrugs at Cas, like _'what do you expect me to do about it?'_, and then tries to stop himself feeling like a dick at the angel's crestfallen expression_._

Dean the Magnificent suddenly feels an awful lot less magnificent.

"We need you to turn them back," Cas says, finally. The first words he's spoken since he teleported them out of the witches' HQ. (It had been on fire, at the time. And, surprisingly, that _hadn't_ been Loki's fault.)

"Let me think about it," Loki says, tapping a long finger against his lower lip in a parody of contemplation. "Hm. How about _no_?"

It strikes Dean that, besides himself, the only other person in the room having a good time is_ Loki_. He's supposed to be miserable by now, but The Bastard doesn't even look _sorry_ - just smug. And Dean's meant to be the smug one in this situation.

The whole thing seems really, really unfair.

Sam groans. "Stop being such a child!"

Loki's eyes go from being warm and open to two shards of green ice in the space of a heartbeat. Dean, in all his infinite wisdom and knowledge of the Workings of Asshole Younger Brothers is almost a hundred percent sure that he's on the verge of pouting. "I am older than-"

Sam interrupts. "_Time_, yeah, we _know_, already. Doesn't change the fact that you're acting like a toddler. A magical toddler. But still."

"I am not," Loki replies, and, yeah, he's actually pouting now (Dean knows his shit). "You're just to ostunted to appreciate my sense of humour."

_This show needs more popcorn,_ he thinks. _Also: ninjas._

Sam sighs. "It isn't funny."

"Of course it is. Dean laughed."

"Dean's sick."

"Hey!" Dean interjects. He's magnificent, dammit.

"Dean's not sick," Castiel says.

"Thanks, Cas, buddy-"

"He just has a sophomoric sense of humour."

Sam snorts, and Dean frowns. That sounded suspiciously like an insult.

"Why, you sad sack of grace - are you calling _my Tricks_ juvenile?" Loki gapes, sounding incredulous. Okay, so it was an insult. Ouch, Cas._Ouch_. "You think 'ass-butt' is_ funny_."

"It sounds better in Enochian-"

"Oh, _everything_ 'sounds better in Enochian'. Well, what's the Enochian for 'you can take your superciliousness and shove it up your'-"

"You dare? You're nothing but a false idol-"

"A false idol who isn't bested by the_ internet_ on a regular basis-"

"**Shut the fuck up, both of you**!"

All eyes turn to Sam, who's got this manic look on his face. Considering that look used to be followed by Sam exorcising demons _with his mind_, it's actually kinda scary.

"I take back what I said earlier. You are_ both_ children," he barks, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with two immortal beings. We're gonna have an _adult discussion_. That means no name calling. No yelling-"

"You yelled."

"_Shut up_, Dean. No magic and no smiting each other, okay? - stop sniggering, Dean, or I'm painting the car _pink_, yeah, you heard me - That also means no provoking the angel. And, Cas, no provoking Loki, either. Let's try and get along," Sam manages to contort his face into the world's most strained smile. "Right. Now, _do you think you can do that_?"

There's a chorus of "yes, Sam"s (and one "fuck you", courtesy of Dean, because he's a paragon of maturity).

"Loki," Cas says. "Please undo the spell."

Dean watches on, amused, as Loki pointedly looks at everything but Cas, and Cas begins to look like he's getting increasingly frustrated with being ignored. Y'know, in a really repressed, expressionless, angelic sort of way.

"_Loki_," Sam growls.

"_Why_?" Loki whines, in a put out manner that distinctly reminds Dean of a kid having all his fun ruined by the stupid, boring_ grown-ups._

Yep. _Toddler_.

There's a beat of silence. Dean cracks open his can of soda. Loki's is looking at the wall, Cas is looking at Loki like he wants to eat him in a completely non-sexual way that Dean definitely doesn't approve of, and Sam-

Sam makes a noise like a moose caught in a wood-chipper.

"Spit it out, dude" Dean chimes in, helpfully. Or not so helpfully, judging by the baleful glare he receives from both brother and angel. This is _so_not how this is supposed to go. "Okay, okay, jesus. Don't tag-team me with the eyes of judgement. Loki's the one in trouble here."

The glance Loki throws his way is distinctly betrayed.

When it looks like Sam's no closer to speaking, Cas picks up the proverbial baton in typical deadpan fashion.

"You must release the mortals from the enchantment," he intones, every inch an Angel of the Lord, dignified and brimming with holy power.

"We've covered this already," Loki notes dryly.

Another beat of silence.

Sam makes another noise, the lovechild of a groan and a whimper. Dean thought he might've actually heard some _words_ in there.

"Dude, come again?"

There's a long pause.

"The slugs are eating them."

Dean's mouthful of soda ends up half-way across the table.

"Oh, gross!" Sam chokes, wiping some of it off his cheek with the back of his hand. "Did you seriously just do a spit take? _Seriously_?"

Cas looks down at the front of his shirt, now drenched in orange soda and Dean's saliva, with something akin to resigned horror.

Next to Dean, Loki's smirking like all of this was somehow part of his Evil Plan. Which, now Dean takes a moment to think about it, is probably the case. Bastard's probably hoping they've forgotten all about his botanical exploits.

Dean the Magnificent hasn't. Dean the Magnificent still remembers the flaky, perfect crust and amazing, glorious sweetness of the blueberry filling, how awesome it had tasted -

...What? _Of course _it came back to pie.

"I'm glad we've cleared that up," Loki says, clapping his hands together. He moves to get up, but Dean slaps a palm on his shoulder and presses him back down into the seat. Or, as much as Dean _can do_ when the guy's stronger than four of him on steroids. Despite the disparity, Loki sinks back down into the chair willingly, even if his expression is decidedly mutinous. "I thought you were on my side."

"I'm not on anyone's side," he says diplomatically.

"Liar."

"Why, hello pot, meet kettle."

Sam clears his throat, and Cas' gaze has gone from Deeply Disapproving to Vaguely Homicidal.

Dean swallows.

"Now, if you two have finished," Sam says. "We _still _need you to turn those witches back."

"I don't particularly feel like it at the moment," Loki sighs, stretching out his legs. "Ask me again in the morning."

"There might be too much damage to the mortal witches by then," Cas points out. "I don't know if I would be able to heal it."

Loki smirks. "Juice running low?"

Cas looks like he's rapidly reconsidering the 'no smiting' rule.

"Look, Loki, we can't leave them like that," Sam tries again, pulling out the Painfully Earnest slash I Know You Want to Do the Right Thing voice. "Please. It's—it's cannibalism. Like, really freaky cannibalism, I'll grant you. But still. _Cannibalism_, Loki. That can't be something you want."

Judging by the look of surprise on Loki's face, he hadn't realised _that._ Apparently he'd forgotten that both slug and plant were once human.

"Fine," the Trickster says, making a shooing gesture with his hand. "But, just so you know, I released them from the enchantment over an hour ago."

Sam frowns and looks around at their mini-rainforest. "But… Then why…?"

Loki grins. "You really think I'd bring a group of fledgling witches and their victims to the motel I'm staying at?" he sniffs disdainfully. "Really. These are _duplicates_."

Sam's head hits the table with a dull 'thunk'.

"Cas, you okay over there?" Dean asks.

The angel, who, right now, looks the very picture of silent despair, nods. And then vanishes.

Sam looks at the recently vacated space behind him. "I think you broke him."

"Yeah, you should be nicer to Cas," Dean says, absently batting the leaf out of his face. Again. "So, uh. What're we gonna do with these things?"

Dean's Not Happy. His awesome moment has been completely ruined, and he's magic-crashing too. Loki's magic may make you high, but it's about twenty times worse than a sugar crash.

_I didn't even get to finish up on my epic commentary_, Dean thinks mournfully.

"Your angel was the one who teleported us here," Loki stands, manoeuvring gracefully around the obstacle course of plant pots. Which is also totally unfair. Dean's seen Loki jump from the top of a multi-story parking lot and land on his feet - and _still not stumble_. "So it's technically his fault that they're in your room."

"No," Sam says with conviction. "It's your fault."

Loki makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. "Even so, I think they look rather nice in here, don't you?"

Realisation dawns on Dean. "Oh no, you don't-… get to leave us to tidy up your messes." He trails off, glaring daggers at the green smoke cloud that's rapidly dissipating. "Fuck Loki. Seriously."

"We need new friends, Dean," Sam mutters. "One's who can't teleport."

Dean grunts his agreement, tossing the empty soda can at a plant with extreme prejudice as he stands up.

Sam's head rises an inch from the table top. "...Dean?"

"Yep?"

"...Where are you going?"

"Well, thing is, Sammy," Dean smirks, kicking one of the pots over on his way to the door, "you threatened my baby**-"

Now it's Sam's turn to get a sharp dose of reality. "Oh my god, you can't be serious-"

"I'm dead serious, Sammy. Can't have you thinking that you can get away with threatening to paint her _pink_, can I? No, I think you need some time to sit and think about what you've done. Here. With your _new friends_."

"You can't leave me here with all these plants! They've got slugs on them! They're... _everywhere_! Dean! _Dean_! I'm sorry-"

"Shoulda thought about that earlier, Sammy," Dean calls out over his shoulder.

He's still laughing at the look on Sam's face as he pulls out of the parking lot five minutes later, wondering how long it will be before he (and Loki) realise that he isn't coming back for them.

* * *

The Rules (a.k.a. "Dean-Notes"):

* You do not fuck with Dean's pie. You do not plan to fuck with Dean's pie. You do not pretend to fuck with Dean's pie. You do not _imagine_ fucking with Dean's pie.

** To understand the severity of threatening Dean's baby, replace all above mentions of the word 'pie' with the word 'car', and then multiply the consequences of breaking the rules by infinity squared.


End file.
